


Stop Thinking

by Sybilina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybilina/pseuds/Sybilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac sometimes spends a little too much time inside his own head.  Usually, training works.  When that fails... well, Derek has ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop Thinking

Derek could be a bastard sometimes, but Isaac was happy for the endless amounts of training Derek set on him. Tearing through the woods at breakneck speeds, sparring in the graveyard where he used to daydream of having a more exciting life, he rarely had time to think about his old life. About his brother. His dad.

Derek had told him several times to forget about him, that his father was a good for nothing so and so. Isaac knew it but it didn't feel good to be told it, so when he turned around and made some comment about forgetting about the Hales and Kate and everything else involved, Derek had turned and left, not to return to the loft for three days. It had been a low blow and Isaac wanted to apologize but Derek wasn't the apologizing type, either to give it or receive it, so Isaac stayed quiet.

And with all of the excitement, with Peter, with the Alpha pack in town, with Peter being the bad guy, the dead bad guy, then the miraculously alive not-bad guy (Derek still hadn't explained that one to him and Isaac was pretty sure Derek didn't know himself and that scared him), with Matt controlling the Kanima, who ended up being Jackson, with everything in his life reaching a kind of apex, Isaac didn't have time to think about his old life.

But once everything quieted down, once it was just Derek and Isaac in the loft, researching the Alpha pack, or trying to research them since they were fucking elusive as hell, Isaac's mind had started to wander. That was about the time when Derek had upped the training regimen, which Isaac had been relatively grateful for.

Doing pull ups on a rainy day in the loft is definitely not the best way to keep his mind occupied. Sometimes, he envied Stiles his friendships. Not even Scott, exactly, though Scott was awesome and he wished it wasn't so awkward sometimes when he wanted to hang out with him. He didn't even understand the awkwardness. No, Stiles made friends everywhere he went, practically wormed his way under people's skin until they accepted him into their circle of friends. He'd seen Lydia ignore Stiles for close to ten years and somehow, finally, Stiles had managed to get onto a first name basis with her. Or a nickname basis, as the case may be.

The only friends Isaac had ever had were graves.

Like Lilith and Robert who had been born twenty years apart but died on the same day. Isaac liked to think they died peacefully in their sleep side by side but more realistically, they probably died in a horrific car accident of some sort.

Or little Georgie Alexander the Third, who might not have been little bit he was thirteen when he died so the probability that he'd been smaller than Isaac was pretty high. Isaac made up a story about how little Georgie had suffered from leukemia since he was five and finally when he was thirteen, he turned to his parents and said, “I'm ready, please let me go now” and they did, with tears in their eyes but love in their hearts.

Isaac felt the sweat drip down his back and he rubbed his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt when he was in the down position of the pull up, not wanting to break his stride by actually letting go.

But then Derek had come along and he could stop making up stories. He could actually partake in the stories, be a story. Sure, some of it had been regrettably sad, like Matt's story or the fact that Erica and Boyd rarely went home now, hell, hadn't been home in over a month now and their pictures all over town still tugged at his heart because he felt like part of it was his fault. Then, Derek was there, taking control, telling him that Boyd and Erica were going to be okay, they were going to find them, bring them home, and they'd be a pack again.

The way Derek said pack sounded better, sweeter, fuller than any time his father had said the word family.

Isaac trusted Derek. Maybe a little less than he trusted Scott but Derek had saved him from his father, had held him in the night when he woke from nightmares about fists and locked closets, and always found him when he got lost in the woods, despite knowing the area so well and having the nose of a werewolf. Derek always found him.

Isaac almost let go of the bar when he felt a hand snake around his waist.

“Don't let go.”

Isaac was so familiar with the timbre of that voice, stern and in control yet gentle as well. The voice was calming to him and his grip tightened. He didn't want to let that voice down and it had nothing to do with fear.

“Good.” Isaac caught a whiff as Derek's arms continued to wrap around him, Derek's chest suddenly flush against Isaac's ass, and he realized that the reason he hadn't smelled Derek come in was because Derek was wearing Isaac's clothing. Sneaky bastard. “You're thinking too much.”

“Huh?” Isaac said.

He felt Derek nuzzle his lower back as he chuckled and Isaac felt heat bloom in his cheeks. “If you let go, this stops. Do you understand?”

Everything Derek did was gentle, Isaac thought. He knew it wasn't how people normally thought about Derek, who could be brisk and rough and commanding on a good day, but Isaac had been around him for months now. He knew the smell that came with the words and it was very rarely anger, which had been such a strong emotion in his house when his father was alive that he hadn't needed werewolf senses to know when it walked in the door. With Derek's arms around him, Isaac never wanted to let go.

Derek's hands edged up the fabric on Isaac's sides. “I said, do you understand?”

He was a little more stern in his voice this time but still gentle. Still no anger. “Yes. Yes, I understand. What are you -”

“Shh. You need to stop thinking, Isaac. Let me help with that.”

And suddenly Derek's claws were picking at the button on Isaac's jeans and he nearly let go. Nearly. Then he felt his own claws dig into his palms in an effort to keep a solid grip.

“Are you just going to hang there or are you going to continue your training like I asked?” Derek asked. It was borderline teasing but also a hint of a command.

Isaac lifted himself, bringing his chin to the bar.

“Good boy,” Derek said from behind him and Isaac felt the heat in his face also bloom in his abdomen as Derek's claws picked at the zipper, drawing it down ever so slightly.

Isaac hitched a moan, aborted halfway through, and he wasn't sure if it was in response to Derek's words or Derek's actions.

Then Isaac's jeans were slipping down his thighs, needing only a slight tug from Derek, and Isaac lifted himself into another pullup, both to continue with his training as Derek had asked but also to help Derek pull his jeans off the rest of the way.

Derek's hands traced their way up Isaac's thighs, first the outside, then the inside, stopping just behind his knees, almost enough to tickle, before pulling away and back up, just shy of erogenous territory on the inside of his thigh. Isaac felt Derek push the back of his shirt up, high enough to reach his hands, licking and kissing his back the entire way, and Isaac felt Derek prod at first his left hand and then his right as he deftly maneuvered the shirt off Isaac when he let go of the bar, first with one hand, then the other.

Isaac should have felt more embarrassed about hanging from a pullup bar in the middle of Derek's loft in just his boxers but all he felt was annoyance that he was even wearing his boxer shorts still.

Then Isaac felt Derek's arms wrap around him tightly and, out of the corner of his eye, there was movement. He let go just for a minute, Derek holding him in position, before gripping the bar again.

Peter was in the loft. “Don't mind me, just here to watch.”

“Don't mind him,” Derek said.

“What, what do you mean don't mind him,” Isaac said, his leg twitching with a need to kick but not wanting to upset his Alpha.

Derek bit him in the side and Isaac's claws bit again into his hand and he could smell metal as the blood dripped down his wrists. 

“Stay focused,” Derek growled. Again, he didn't smell angry, but Isaac felt a deep-seeded need to make Derek proud, to do as he asked not because he was afraid of the repercussions but just because he wanted to hear Derek praise him.

Isaac felt himself start to pant as Peter pulled something out of the closet at the corner of the room. It was a full length, stand-alone mirror, with legs and a tilting mechanism. Peter situated it right in front of Isaac and he could see himself, flushed pink, his hair wild with drying sweat, his arm muscles jutting out from his straining to keep a grip on the bar, his toes curling where they dangled above the floor. And Derek, behind him, licking at where he'd bitten Isaac, almost as a plea for forgiveness. Isaac didn't even notice Peter pulling up a chair next to the mirror and sitting down.

Then Derek's fingers were claw-less again, tracing patterns over Isaac's stomach and Isaac could see the way his muscles jumped and twitched, the almost tickle meshing so well with the need for more. And then Derek's fingertips disappeared under the waistband of Isaac's boxers.

Without doing anything, Derek's fingertips came back out and Isaac threw his head back, wanting to growl, wanting to howl, but not daring to challenge Derek like that. Isaac knew he was teasing him and he didn't know if he loved it or hated it.

Derek's hands cupped him then, without warning, and Derek licked a line up Isaac's spine. If his toes had ever ceased curling, they were back in full curl mode again, even his knees getting in on the action. He was afraid he was about to make a mess in his boxers and he caught a glimpse of Peter watching them, one leg up and braced against the edge of the chair as his other hand cupped himself. The bastard was getting off on this. Isaac didn't know if that excited him or revolted him.

Looking back in the mirror, he realized he was about to bite a hole in his lip and he let it go, watching at his lips formed a small O of sensation, his lips bright red and glistening from where he'd been licking them. He could remember the days when his father accused him of wearing lipstick because his lips were so prone to brightness, even smacking him in the lips one time to try to wipe the 'lipstick' off. He closed his lips, watching them form a crude and emotionless thin line.

He felt a sharp line of pain on either sides of his ribs and he gasped in pain. Derek hadn't clawed him deep enough to draw blood, but he could have. “Stop thinking,” Derek said.

Isaac looked back at his own face and realized his lips were back in the O of want again and the pain of the scratches had done nothing to dent the pitched tent in his boxers. He had a full body blush blooming across his skin, across his stomach and his chest, brightening in his face and cheeks, and ending at the tips of his ears. Derek was behind him, pressing kisses and licks to his skin as his fingers trailed towards the front, finally tugging gentle at the boxers, pulling them down slowly, catching briefly as his cock sprang free. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter's hands start to move faster and his legs spread a little wider.

“I said, don't pay attention to him. Focus on me,” Derek said, and Isaac watched as he tugged the boxers off, Isaac giving a half-hearted attempt at a pullup to help him with the job, then as he kissed and licked his way back up his legs. Then he was kissing and nipping at Isaac's asscheeks and Isaac rolled his ankles.

Isaac didn't even see Derek's hands move but suddenly, one was rolling his balls around and the other had crept around to Isaac's front, loosely gripping Isaac's cock as it pointed to the ceiling. Isaac felt his claws trying to come out again but he focused on keeping them retracted as Derek stroked him.

“That's it. You're doing so well, Isaac,” Derek said softly and Isaac watched as his skin turned a brighter pink, wanting to wince at the moan that bubbled out of his lips.

A small trickle of pre-come dribbled out of the slit and Derek's thumb stroked it away, earning another knee bend from Isaac. How he wanted to just drop down and kiss Derek right then, hump him, fuck Derek's mouth or let Derek fuck his mouth, or just wrap his legs around Derek and beg Derek to fuck him senseless. But Derek had told him this would end if he let go.

So he held on.

Derek's hand gripped tighter around his shaft, tugging with just enough pressure that Isaac tilted his head back through the hole his arms made, moaning loudly and not caring who heard. Derek's thumb kept rolling around the head of his cock, smearing the wetness around, and Isaac felt Derek's other hand on the back of his head, pushing, forcing him to look in the mirror once again, and he twitched at the sight of it all: Derek behind him, locking eyes with him, a smile dancing on his lips; his legs giving little twitches as they struggled for purchase on something, anything; even Peter to the side of the mirror, his cock in hand as he furiously pumped at it.

Then Derek's hands were around him again, stroking his stomach, his chest, rolling over and pinching his nipples, and his other hand was stroking harder and faster now. Isaac could see his arms straining, not just out of the corner of his eye but also in the mirror, as he felt his orgasm starting to build. Derek's hand was perfect, absolutely perfect on his cock, rolling and twisting just right, pumping at just the right speed.

Derek stepped to the side of him, still jacking him off, and he watched Isaac as he stuck a finger in his mouth before reaching behind Isaac. Isaac felt the finger at his hole, teasing and prodding before slipping inside.

He briefly heard Peter's guttural groans before he was making similar sounds of his own, belatedly proud of himself for actually hitting the mirror with one of his streams. Derek stroked him through the orgasm, one finger still in his hole, until it became too much and Isaac almost let go accidentally.

Derek was there to catch him, though.


End file.
